Swirl
Dry road carves a dusty wish
beneath sighing pine trees
resenting loss of light and you
undo your window beg for air
never a March so dry what
when July blooms?
your hot breath its soothing
promise flames like red camellia
at your doorway a lost moment
reflects as fools adorn
before mirrors
you take the smile of
last sun handing it to me
like the soft neck of a dandelion
Libros Libertad 